INSIDE YOUR HEAD
by foxdvd
Summary: It started as a legitimate casefile... ended up being smuthumour and pure FF. Any excuse to get B&B in bed! Epilogue's up, so you know what that means: this baby's done...
1. A brief story summary

**A/N : **This is my first "Bones" fanfiction, written during nights spent at hospital taking care of a loved one.Since nights at a hospital do get quite boring (specially since the one you're taking care of passes out 32 seconds after you drop by) and local TV listings leave a lot to be desired ("I'll take "Rerun Hell" for 200, Alex"), I've started bringing my faithful laptop with me to keep myself busy and at least pretend to be catching up on work.

This is how I came across 3 amazing revelations. First, there IS a limit to the amount of solitaires you can play without reaching a suicidal level. Second, some muses simply don't take "no" for an answer, regardless of what real life is dealing you at the time. And third, it's virtually impossible to write a masterpiece based on carefully planned internet research when you don't have internet access to begin with.

Having said that, I'll have to admit that this was originally meant to be a 7-parter, with each chapter named after a chakra and loads and loads of fact and science tidbits thrown left, right and center. All of that, of course, was a carefully plotted excuse to get B&B to perform the human pretzel, tantric style, without coming across as a sex fiend.

Alas, no such luck.

So we'll pretend we got ourselves a free ride in the Angelator (Ms. Montenegro was very accommodating once she found out what I wanted it for) and we'll skip all the mumbo jumbo and get down to the very basics: Booth and Brennan working undercover as a married couple and behaving... uhh.. well... as a married couple?

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The story so far:

- Booth managed to talk Brennan into accepting the assignment and still was able to tell the tale.

- They're now officially Mr. and Mrs. Steven and Tessa Brethen, who've been married for 5 years and have lost a bit of yester's spark in bed, so, on one of Steven's coworker's recommendation, they decided to give the seminar a try.

- Upon arrival, they met Michael Dez, enlightenment teacher, who soon diagnosed "unresolved issues and emotional distance" within the couple and suggested a couple of "cleansing therapies" both individually and as a couple. At the beginning, neither of them can complain, cause, who in their right mind opposes being pampered with massages and oils and relaxing music? (cricket sounds in the background) Hmm… thought so.

- Problems begin when they take their first therapy with Dez himself, whose intimate and detailed questioning has both of them stammering responses and faltering in their story-lines. Booth is certain they've blown their covers and wants to pull themselves out of the operative. Brennan, on the other hand, after having listened to the masseuses gossiping about a missing girl and a new "mummified statuette" arriving, wants them to go on. For the unobservant onlooker, it looks as a normal fight between a married couple, but Michael Dez is starting to wonder what's really going on in the Brethen's lives and decides to take a closer look at their intimacy.

- That night, Booth and Brennan are invited to a private session in Dez's chambers , and Booth gets an "up-close-and-personal" initiation with yoga and tantric sex, and he doesn't' have to put on an act to portray a not-so-flexible, slowly-but-surely-getting-there almost-middle-aged pencil-pusher. He blames lack of exercise on the fact that he couldn't hold the poses, but, truth to be told, he's afraid he won't be able to control the way his body is reacting to having Brennan so close and in such an intimate situation. Still, they both can feel Dez's suspicions as they leave the session to go into their room.

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I had never felt so tired in my entire life. I've got muscles aching that I didn't even know they could ache. Or that they even existed, to begin with. I steal a glance towards Bones and I can tell she looks fresh as a cucumber. I try telling myself that it's all that estrogen flowing that makes her more flexible than I am, but deep inside I know it's the martial arts and the yoga which are responsible for it. Guess pumping iron and running track don't cut it quite as well.

I'm still bothered by the way Dez looks at us. I know he suspects something is going on, but I'm certain he's yet to figure out exactly what it is. I cant' wait to get into "our" bedroom so we can talk freely about the whole case. And then drop dead for at least 6 hours. Or drop dead first and talk later. The way I'm feeling, I really wouldn't mind if we chose the latter over the former.

As soon as I open the door I get the feeling something's not quite right. All my senses are running on high trying to pinpoint what's happening. Brennan walks towards the bed and lifts a piece of parchment left on top of one of the pillows.

"Look, babe, Dr. Dez was kind enough to leave us a note"

I can tell by the sarcasm dripping from her voice that she's not exactly keeping in character. I come closer and warn her to keep quiet with a slight gesture of my hand.

"Why don't you go brush your teeth while I read what he has to tell us" I tell her as I give her behind a light slap to get her going. By the look in her eyes I know I'm so going to pay for this once the case is over, but it was worth it.

I read the note and feel the hairs at the back of my neck slightly raised. As nonchalantly as possible I gaze around the room. It doesn't' take long to discover a couple of cameras hidden in the tapestries and the corner fan. And I'm pretty sure the bed's headrest is bugged as well. Dez, you sneaky perv I think to myself.

I walk into the bathroom where Bones is busy removing her makeup and brushing her teeth. I make a whole production out of taking off my t-shirt and the wife beater underneath it, but to no avail; if there are more cameras inside the bathroom I can't find them.

Bones raises an inquiring eyebrow at my actions, and luckily for me, her mouth is filled with toothpaste foam and is not able to ask the question I can see in her eyes. I move swiftly behind her and my arms surround her waist.

I start nipping at her right ear. "Cameras" I whisper in between nibbles, "And mikes" I add as I pretend to kiss my way down her neck. She closes her eyes and I feel, not hear, a single word coming from her. I look up at the mirror just in time to catch the perfectly formed "Fuck" I get as an answer.

Illogically, irrationally, that single action ignites my desire. Maybe it's having had to spend so much time so close to her. Maybe it's the certainty that, no matter what I do, she'd have to let me get away with it in order not to blow our covers. Maybe it's the amount of unresolved sexual tension that's grown between us. Maybe I'm just plain horny.

Or maybe it's just the idea of having to perform sexually with Bones whilst Michael Dez and God knows who else is watching that I find such a huge turn on.

I feel (hear?) her swallow hard and stiffen a bit, as if sensing a change in my demeanor. "What did Dr. Dez want, babe?" She looks at me through our reflection in the mirror and her eyes widen as she feels my erection press against her lower back.

"The"… kiss… "good doctor"… nibble… "says that"… nip… "although it's against regular protocol" … lick… "he thinks in our case"… slight suction… "it'd be beneficial for us"… hands moving up to cup her breasts… "to have sex tonight" …

I hold my breath as I wait for her to either moan or kick my ass into next Friday.

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TBC…


	2. What happens behind closed doors

**A/N: **Thanks for all the kind reviews and good wishes for my hubby. Mucho appreciated!

This is definitively rated M. Don't say I didn't warn you!

**A/N2: ** Since my "coming of age" happened ina time where dinosaurs roamed the Earth, I'm a total klutz when it comes to condom etiquette. Therefore, I don't write them in my stories. However, I'm hoping that in real life you're condom-savvy and practice safe sex. Thank you!

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I was literally holding my breath awaiting Bones's reaction. My hands were still cupping her breasts and my left thumb was feeling specially daredevilish, as it was lazily circling her already half-erect nipple. My mouth was still feasting alongside her neck and I ventured a glance at the mirror.

Her reflection is material for many a night filled with wet dreams. Her eyes are closed, her breathing uneven and her lips are partially open, swollen and glistening... I catch a glimpse of her tongue darting between those lips and I'm a goner.

Spinning her around in my arms, I crush my lips to her, my tongue eagerly seeking hers, an overwhelming sense of need fueling my every action. My hands are all over her back and ass, pinning her hard against my body, rubbing my cock against her lower belly. I want her so badly I'd have gladly taken her right then and there, on top of the bathroom sink

But somehow my gentlemanly side overruled my cromagnon self in the last moment, just as I had already taken a step forward. Her response had been nothing but enthusiastic so far but this wasn't how I've envisioned our lovemaking to be. Satisfying my urges in the bathroom would, no doubt, be up there in my top 5 sex-related moments, but it 'd have been merely fucking.

And I wanted my first time with Temperance Brennan to be a love making experience that I would cherish till the day I died. There'd be plenty of time later, or so I fervently hoped, to break sinks and fuck against tiled walls... I had already picked a spot at the bathroom in her office. But that will be then and not now.

For now, I wanted to make love to her body like no other guy had ever done and like no other guy will ever do. I want to taste every inch of her body and brand her mine. Even if it was the last thing I did in my life, I wanted to hear my name on her lips as she came.

Grabbing her ass in both hands I lifeted her up and began stumbling towards the bed.

"Mhgh.ooth..." Came her protest, as she kept on kissing my shoulders and digging her nails on my back to keep balanced. "Grbh..ameras.."

"Let them watch, babe" I growl as we drop on the bed. But her warning cools me off a bit. Should I risk blowing our covers or should I risk our first time together? Fortunately for me, Bones took matters into her own hands, so to speak, thus making the decision for both of us.

Thank God for small favours.

Bones had somehow gotten from underneath me to above me and was having a ball kissing me all over my face, neck and shoulders. Her hands felt warm and tingling as she began playing with my chest hair and I moaned out loud when her thumbs found my nipples and began caressing them. They were hard in what seemed like seconds and I nearly jumped off the bed when I felt her tongue swirling around them.

My hands flew to her tanktop and took/ripped it off in one motion. Bra proved trickier... man I hate those bloody hooks... but soon enough we were both naked from the waist up and our chests were having a rubbing fest, which soon was joined by our hands and mouths.

All my senses were in overdrive: the texture of her skin underneath my hands, the smell of sweat mixed with desire, the sounds coming from deep within her every time I touched or licked a sensitive spot, the sight of her lost in sensation, a glow I was unable to describe and yet, it gave me a wicked selfish pleasure. "I" was reponsible for that glow, that smell, those sounds...

My sweat pants were beginning to feel unnecesary given the circumstances. And maybe Bones was feeling the same way, as we both reached for our waitbands at more less the same time. I knew better than to hope for that same synchronicity later on in the game, but dreaming is for free, right?

One thing I've learned in all these years that there's no moment as ackward when it comes to sex than the removal of clothes. When you're in your late teens or early 20's, either you're too young and eager to care or too flexible and eager to even notice it. But once you've reached your 30's it's a whole different tune. You're not as nimble and quick as Jack used to be. Joints creak, fingers loose ability and lower backs resent the kind of gymnastics involved in disrobing in one swift move.

But nobody seems to be talking about it. At least, no one in the Penthouse Forum letters ever seem to have problems with an unobliging button or an stuck zipper. Or jeans tangling in shoes that you forgot to take off in your haste?

Or sneakers, in this case. I've forgotten we were still wearing them fucking sneakers. Gramatical error intended. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

I should have been easy, right? I mean, sweatpants, for crying out loud. What could have been easier? No buttons, no zippers, no tight fighting cuts, no rigid fabrics... all you needed was a lil' lift from the hips and then it was all as simple as rolling them off and be done with it, right?

Unless, of course, you've forgotten to take off your sneakers before hand. Then it takes just one to tangle, and 5 out of 10 times, it'll take the sizzle out of the tango and by the time you're done disrobing, sex is the farthest thing from your mind.

Pretty much like what was happening right now.

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A/N: I know. I know. Me bad. But I promise this is not the end of it. Really.


	3. Untangling

A/N: Thanks once more for all the support you've guys given me and my hubby. You guys rock! Chemo's round one is over and the prognosis is looking good. We'll be sleeping at home for 12 days straight, if everything goes well. Yay!

A/N 2: I'd also like to thank everyone who's sent their reviews. Just for the record, I can't write serious smut. So I do what I can and go for humorous smut. Booth seems like the perfect character to try this on!

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Fuck.

This is such a bloody cliche I don't know whether to start groaning or to burst laughing. I glance over at Bones, laying next to me in bed, her face buried in a pillow. Her whole body is trembling and I could just shoot myself for making her cry...

But then I realize it's LAUGHTER what's coursing through her body. Whether it's good laughter or bad laughter is a matter still to be settled, but I'm assuming that laughter, either kind, is a lot better than tears at this point... specially since I've yet to lay a hand on her below the waist.

"Uhh... hmm... babe?"

I hear Bones hiccuping trying to regain control, but, by the sound of it, it's a lost battle.

"Are you okay in there, sweetheart?"

She rolls over, laughter cascading from her mouth, hands clutching her belly, messed hair covering her face. "Yo-... you... you got... oh my God... tan...tan.. tangled... (snort) with.. with..."

Ans that's as far as she goes before succumbing once more to her gayly laughter fit. Luckily for me, I'm a very secure guy. I know what I have to offer and I've never failed to deliver the goods. Granted, I may not be Ron Jeremy but I haven't had complaints, either. A little laughter at my expense is not going to shake my confidence.

Much.

"When you're done laughing, could you get your lovely ass back here and give me a little hand ?" There. That ought to get her back on track. Or maybe not. She rolls to the other side, still clutching her sides, snorting and blubblering and incapable of any coherent sentence.

"Fine", I say, whilst trying to kick my sneakers and get myself out of the mess I've gotten into. "Keep laughing. You're so gonna pay for that". My threats, far from sobering her, send her into another laughing fit.

Cool. Keep it cool. You're the man, man.

Fucking sneakers.

At least I managed to get the socks out of the way as well. One ackward move per night is all that I can handle right now.

So there I was, naked except for my boxers, cock still halfway rigid. And there she was, naked from the waist up, still wearing them fucking sweatpants and still laughing like this was the funniest thing ever. At least she had managed to kick HER sneakers off.

Hey, I've always admitted she's the smartest one in our partnership.

She rolls a bit on her side, looking at me over her naked shoulder. I'm not sure if it's nervousness laughing or if she had really never experienced... uh... technical difficulties whilst disrobing, but one look at me sends her into another fit of laughter.

"Ok missy, I've had it" I stretch my arms and pull her on her back and managed to roll myself atop of her in one almost swift move. Making sure I'm not crushing her below my weight, I start tickling her sides.

"St...st...stop it! Oh pl..pl...pl... ease, stoooooop it!"

My tickling fingers soon turn to caressing ones, and I can hear her swallow hard when I start tracing circles just below her breasts. I lean forward, resting on my forearms, and start nibbling at her neck again. "You were saying something about stopping?" My tongue is now licking the hollow at the base of her neck and I can't help but smile when I hear her gasp.

Now I'm tracing her collarbone with the tip of my tongue and I can't help but marvel at how delicate her whole body is. I've always perceived Bones as strong and indepedant, and I guess that preconceived notion had prevented me from seeing how small she really is.

I shift lower and cup her breasts once more. I take my time examining them. The plastic surgeon was right: they are perfect. They're plump without being too heavy, with a nice natural droop that's still years away from sagging. Tiny blue veins travel upward as if guiding me to her nipples. I think I could stay here for hours just gazing at them. Not rosy, not strawberry, but a perfect in between. I exhale the breath I've been holding and marvel at how those bundles of flesh contract and erect.

If there was ever an invitation to taste them...

Forget hours of contemplation. I'd gladly choke to death sucking on them. I move from the right one to the left one, sucking one and covering the other with my hand, least it gets cold and uncomfortable. While lathering up her left nipple I glance up to see how the rest of Bones is doing. One hand is crumpling the bed spread whilst the other is tugging her hair. She is biting her lower lip and murmuring to herself. Her closed eyes suddenly open in a lazy movement and I'm a goner.

Words can't really describe how it felt to be seen by her while I'm feeding off her breasts. It hit me hard in my soul, an unneccesary confirmation of how deeply I care for this extraordinary woman. It hit harder down below, a not-so-welcomed reminder of how much I wanted her.

"More"

It took me a couple of seconds to realize it hadn't been me thinking out loud. It had slipped from between her lips. I looked at her with a troubled expression, trying to figure out what kind of "more" she wanted. Many a times I had wished women came with a set of instructions tatooed next to their belly buttons. Since most women are somewhat vague to what they really want in bed, you can only hope for the best in a trial-and-error uncoreographed dance.

Alas, Bones isn't like most women.

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TBC...


	4. What I want is what I get

**A/N: ** Thanks everyone for your reviews and comments and pointing out my typos and spelling mistakes (which I'm glad to report have been corrected). My sincerest apologies. English is not my native tongue. Trusty laptop is running on Spanish-based Windows Office. I know. This is what betas were created for. (sigh) My insecure muse doesn't like working with them. I've tried. Believe me. Everything I've gotten betaed has ended in the trash can. Quirk of mine number 324, nestled cozily between 323 (not charging for tarot readings) and 325 (not understanding what's Tom Cruise and/or Brad Pitt's appeal). Hubby loves me, though. All 3,689 quirks of me.

(Noticed the subtle attempt at getting your attention distracted from the "more"?)

Ok... ok... I'm moving. No need to threaten physical damage, please put that bill away and keep your hands off my George Clooney shrine. We're getting to the story in 5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

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"More"

I look into her eyes, hoping to get a clearer idea of what kind of "more" she wants from me. Demands from me, actually. All she needs do is point me in the right direction and I'll try my damnest to give it to her. Anything at all. I don't care what it is that she wants.

On second thought, I might draw a line at cross-dressing, golden showers and zoofilia...

"Too many clothes" is her new demand, delivered in a husky tone of voice that got me even harder. Looking at her flushed cheeks isn't helping much, either. I'd given into lust many times in my life, but I've never wanted anyone as bad as I want her now. And the wanting is also different from anything I've felt before, too.

In the past, when I've given into pure animal instinct, I've never really cared for the girl. Most of the times I go through the motions with just the neccesary involvement to get her turned on enough to allow for penetration. Cynical? Maybe. Honest? Totally. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a slam-bang-thanks ma'am kinda guy. Most of the times I make it worth their while. Let's just say that in those cases, my personal satisfaction rules in the top five places, and hers... somewhere around number 8.

Before tonight, foreplay was just a means to an end: getting inside her and getting off. Right now, however, I wouldn't mind it if my cock never made it inside her body. If I can worship her body in every and any way she wants me to... if I can manage to make her moan and writhe... if I get to hear her say my name outloud in the throes of passion...

A nudge from her hips gets my attention. The message is quite clear: stop daydreaming about how it'd be like if it happened and start working towards making it happen.

My hands move to her waist and I hook my thumbs on the elastic waitband of her pantsuits. I'm somehow shocked at the lack of panties. I never pegged Bones to be a comando-type girl. Not that I'm complaining though. Me likey. Me likey very much!

I start lowering her pants and she's a willing participant, lifting her hips to make my job easier and sorta shimmies and wiggles her legs until they're off for good. I shift back and contempate the scenery before me: a radiant, completely naked Bones laying not-too-modestly... well, almost completely naked. She still has on those ankle high socks gals seem so fond of. I chuckle upon noticing that the sole is decorated with tiny teddy bears in Christmas gear. They have "Angela" written all over them.

Bones clears her throath and looks dissaprovingly at my boxers. "Too many clothes" she says again, this time adressing my undergarment. Ever the gentleman always aiming to please, I get up and discard them in what I hope is a swift and graceful movement. And I remain standing next to the bed, with an "at ease" pose, hands behind my back, alowing her to pass inspection over my body.

I can feel her gaze slowly move down my body. She takes in my chest, my abs and quickly move down to my legs, skipping my genital area. "Not so sassy, huh?" I think to myself, inwardly smirking, until I notice that the "demure" Dr. Brennan is openly checking out my.. uh... package... with what I can only hope is appreciative enthusiasm.

She sighs, and the word "Perfect" escapes her lips in the same breath. Both my ego and my pride swell, not to mention my cock, now standing at three quarters of attention. If Mr. Jones has gotten this far from mere standard friction, I can only imagine what it'll be like once "he" gets to feels her skin... or her hands... or, please God, her lips on him... My imagination causes him to twitch, and the movement ellicits a delighted gasp from my beloved bedmate, and I can't help but feel that I am, indeed, THE man.

Keep dreaming.

She regards me with a naughty smile and a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. My cock nearly hits my belly button, my heart nearly stops and my jaw falls down to my knees when Bones spreads her legs to get my attention back to the task at hand. I watch in astonishment as she rubs herself. It took only a couple of seconds, but it was enough to leave the whole area glistening in an open invitation.

Yesterday's Booth-in-lust would have gladly dived into it, humping away like there was no tomorrow, surrounding myself in the inviting wetness of her pussy, mere strokes away from climaxing and hoping that it was enough to satisfy her.

That was then. This is now. And now the only thing I can think of is tasting her. I want to get drunk with Temperance Brennan's arousal. I want to make her come around my tongue. I want to make her clit swell and tremble in my mouth. I want to hear her beg for me to stop. I want to make her want me deep inside her.

And everybody knows that what I want is what I get.

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TBC

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long. My asthma sneaked up behind my back and I haven't felt like doing anything other than sleep the last couple of days. I'll try to wrap this up nicely (even let you choose the ribbon colour) by the weekend!


	5. Too much of a good thing

**A/N: **Once more, thanks for all the kind reviews and well-wishes for speedy recoveries at chez Lagunas. Runner ups for bow colours are purple and red. Cast your votes!

**A/N2: **I don't need to remind you that this is M rated, right? Consensual sex between two adults? A little voyeurism thrown in just to spice things up? A certain anthropologist wanting "more"? I knew THAT would get your attention! Proceed reading at your own risk…

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As I said before, what I want is what I get. This time, around, I could be getting more than I bargained for. Just thinking about what I'm about to get is enough to get me in overdrive and my already too stiff cock twitches in anticipation.

I move back to the end of the bed and grab her ankles. Bones regards me with a "what-the-fuck?" kind of look that makes me chuckle inside. I guess she was waiting for me to go in for the kill and not beat about the bush. But that's e-xac-tly what I plan to do.

Pun very much intended.

I settle between her legs and start kissing the inside of her calves while my hands gently caress her thighs. By the sounds she's making, I'm guessing I'm not doing so badly, on the one hand, and that she's growing frustrated and impatient, on the other. Not so great at the waiting game, huh, Dr. Brennan? You're about to learn, my dear, that good things come to those who wait.

VERY good things, indeed.

I slowly move forward, tasting, nibbling, sucking and twirling my tongue as I go. It's an enlightening discovery voyage: she's ticklish behind the knees; she has a light birthmark right above her left knee, inclined towards her inner thigh, as if pointing the way to better things; the place where her leg connects with her buttocks is quite an erogenous zone, very receptive indeed. I save that last one for later, as I decide it requires further, in-depth, analysis.

For now, I have an appointment with her pussy, which from now on will forever and affectionately be known as "Ms. Jones". My very own private life soundtrack switches to

Robbie Williams' "Have you met Ms. Jones?". Not yet, mate, but getting there. Can hardly wait.

The smell of her arousal is intoxicating. I look up and I'm mesmerized by the glistening view before me. I feel like Alice in Wonderland, just having found an "Eat Me" sign, and we all know what to do when facing a directional sign. WE follow it.

I give a tentative lick to the whole area. Bones' hips literally jump from the bed and I have to pin her down by placing my hands on the pelvic bones. I can feel her legs tightening next to my body and I proceed to lick her once more, this time more slowly and deeper than the first try.

Her response is clutching the bed sheets, applying more pressure with her legs and hissing out a guttural "Booth". The 0.003 of my rational brain that's still working on the case smacks itself realizing we've just blown our covers. The other. 99.997 overthrows it and lets anarchy run wild with cries of "Case? What case? WE don't need no stinking case!". If we ever have to stand before Cullen to explain what happened, I'm blaming her.

Or rather, her taste.

I can't get enough of it. Of her. I'm openly lapping it up, drinking it up, getting drunk in it, and it's still not enough. I remember hearing/reading that the "flavour" of actual cum is even richer and I'm more than eager to find out for myself, first-hand, if that theory is true.

And from the sound of her moaning, I get the feeling that Bones wouldn't object to my "scientific" research done in her behalf.

Sliding my right arm beneath her left leg, I place my splayed hand on her lower belly to keep her from moving too much. My left arm tries to immobilize her right leg, as my fingers make their way inside her. Bones' moaning goes up a notch, and she starts intercalating hisses and yeses and religious references and that's all the encouragement I need.

I slip my thumb in, opening her up, twirling it around, lubricating it. I can feel her inner walls trying to adjust to it and I remove it before she gets a chance to do it. A grunt of protest escapes her lips, and I'm quick to replace it with two other fingers that slowly start getting acquainted with the folds and ridges inside her vagina. I try flicking her clit with my thumb, but the angle proves to be uncomfortable so I twist my hand, my thumb pointing downwards.

What happened next was totally unplanned. Ok, maybe not totally. But I hadn't planned to do it previously (as if making love to her like this had been in my plans to begin with). I won't deny that once I was struck with the idea, it seemed like the most natural thing to do. So I went with it. And my thumb began caressing her backside opening. It gave easily under the pressure, and soon it was inside, exploring. At the same time I flicked my tongue over her clit. Once, twice…

"Oh… my… god… Bo… Bo… S E E L E Y ! "

Her scream was muffled by her thighs, which had closed down hard around my head. I could feel her contracting and gripping at my fingers and I would have remained there until her orgasm subsided, but I HAD to taste her then and there and unwillingly I removed them and began to gently suck at the juices flowing freely from her.

I learned three things at that very moment.

The first is that, yes, her taste grew huskier and richer as she came. The second, that struck me as soon as her hip began trashing once more, is that there is such thing as a multiorgasmic women (up until then I had believed it to be a myth designed to elevate men's egos). Thirdly, I learn that there is such thing as too much of a good thing.

The latter I found out when I felt her hands pulling my head back.

"Please…. don't"

She barely whispered her plea and I looked up into her eyes, worried. I shouldn't have tried that trick with my thumb. I should have had the prior practice when I had the chance. I shouldn't have use my teeth to nibble on her outer labia…

"Too… sensitive… please… stop "

I'm officially worried now. And an idiot. A chauvinist pig. A screw-up. A …

"Come here"

And she opened her arms to me in an open invite I couldn't refuse. I carefully but quickly slipped upwards and gathered her somewhat limp body in my arms. "Are you ok?" I asked, worriedly, mentally kicking myself for having hurt her.

"Never better", she half said, half sighed. "B-but clit's too sensitive n-now. What felt amazing 2 minutes ago is now unpleasant, even painful… don't worry… you'll learn to read my rhythms and my appetites in time"

In time? Does that mean…? My heart and Mr. Jones start doing flip-flops and I got so engrossed on pondering all the possible ramifications of her last statement that I didn't notice what she was doing until I felt her body on top of me, shifting her hips so she could sit up, placing her hands on my shoulders, wicked smile on her face, messy hair framing her face.

I was so taken by surprise that my initial response wasn't exactly worthy of a Nobel Prize.

"But I thought…. you just said…. " Gulp. " Too much?"

Bones slides her wet pussy on my cock's length, as if lubrication was needed to begin with, and tries aligning Mr. and Ms. Jones. " I said"… shift to the left… "that clitoridal stimulation"… shift to the right… "was beginning to be too intense"…. shift upward… "to be pleasurable anymore"…. frustrated groan at missing the right angle…

"Oh, fuck it." Gotta love these awkward moments in first time sex.

With an exasperated groan, she straightened up, keeping her left hand on my shoulder for balance and grabbing my erect cock with her right one, lifting her hips, and placing the tip at her entrance.

"But I never said anything about NEEDING to feel you filling me"

And with that, she slid herself downwards, and life as I had known it previously simply vanished.

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**A/N: **I know. I said it would be 7 parts. But if you take into account I didn't actually give you a story part on Chapter 2, this IS part 6, right? Since I've already been thrown tomatoes, please make certain this time around you send purple onions and pepperoni my way. I'll add pineapple chunks and we'll have pizza for dinner!


	6. Tenderness times three

**A/N: ** I know. It took forever and a day. Blame real life. I'd be more than happy to stay home and write all day long, but I have to work for a living. Sucks, huh? Oh well... you ain't here for MY moanings, so let's move on to the main event, shall we?

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Oh... my... g o o O D D D!!!

I'm so going to hell for this. And if this is my downfall, I'll go down praising the Lord and any other divine entity responsible for it.

There's just no way to describe being inside Temperance Brennan. I've never imagined...

Who am I trying to kid? Fuck.. I've jerked off several times a week, for months on end, to this image... but nothing never quite like this. Real life, once again, has proven to be better than fiction. And my imagination is active and kicking, thank you very much.

I can feel her nails as she digs them on my shoulders. I can feel the friction of her calves against my legs, starting to feel the moisture caused by both our bodies sweating. I can feel her hips as they grind into mine, lifting and coming back down, harder and then softer, in a rhythm all of her own. I can feel the friction of her pubic curls against mine.

I can hear all sorts of noises coming from her: moans and growls and half muttered words. I open my eyes and the sight before me takes my breath away. Her head is thrown back, her hair is disheveled, her breasts sway and jiggle in reponse to her movements. I can even see her tummy muscles clenching and unclenching as she takes her sweet time riding my cock.

Best of all, I can feel her inner muscles working around my cock and the things she's making me feel... I sent a silent prayer thanks to Dr. Kegel, wherever he may be.

I've remain a passive spectator for too long now. And it's definitively time to change that. I just need to figure a way to get Im-In-Charge!Bones to get me back into the driving seat. I'm not complaining about the way she's doing things, mind you. It's just that things are not being done my way. My Alpha male, Seely Booth, FBI maverick way. And I plan to switch things around so that I can have my way.

I start by placing my hands on her hips. She regards me with a half-smile and a naughty gaze and I'm this close to letting the whole "I'm gonna do the job myself" thing slide and just lay there and let her have her way with me.

But that's not what I want for us now. Down the road, I promise I'll let Bones do with me as she pleases... perhaps even hint on that "getting blowed from under the desk" fantasy that's been around my head for a whilst ever since I saw her on all fours retrieving a pen gone AWOL from under her desk...

Ever so slowly I start splaying my fingers until I feel them brushing against her curls. Seeing no apparent reaction from her, I move my thumb downwards, reaching for her clit, and star tracing circles around it. I have the feeling we'll get to be good friends, Bones' clit and I. At least, he seems happy to see me once again, and from Bones' hissing mewl, I can tell she's happy he's happy.

So, phase two goes into effect. Without warning I pull my upper-self up from bed and I start feasting on her breasts yet again. Having left her without proper support, Bones collapses against my body and tries to regain her balance by arching her back, which gives me better access to her nipples which I'm deeply enjoying getting acquainted with, and it is with the most utter dissapointment that I'm forced to leave them least I break my back.

Bones stills her hips movement and for a moment we are sitting straight up in bed, me deeply buried inside her, on hand on her belly as my thumb still caresses her clit, one arm on her back for support. Her nipples glisten from my saliva and my mouth yearns for them for a second or two, before I finally face her. Her expressive eyes, her swollen lips, her whole emotional turnmoil written all over her face... I can't help myself and start kissing her again.

The kisses this time have a different quality to them. There's still the need and the desire in there, plenty enough to run three towns on it, but there's also something different there. Tenderness. Caring. Love.

I'm in love with Temperance Brennan. And she loves me back. Damned be the rest of the world.

Bones leans forward to whisper in my ear, her voice hitching. "I'm so close, Booth. Make me come."

"Oh fuck, Bones..."

"Precisely"

I wanted to make love to her for hours on end. I wanted our lovemaking to be slow and langorous and full of tenderness. I wanted us to please each other orally a couple of times before the sun rose again. I wanted to try switching, for at least six positions. I was all for letting her choose 4 of them, as long as she agreed to let me do her doggie style and to ride me backwards. And having seen her reaction to my earlier ministrations, I even wanted to give anal a try. I wanted so many things for our first time together...

... but hearing Bones so eloquently order me to fuck her and make her come took priority to everything else, rational thought included.

Gathering her in my arms I try to lay us down in bed so I can go for the good ole fashioned misionary way. Easier said than done, actually. But this time around, clumsiness had its rewards. Whilst trying to get her down in bed I shifted... uh... shall we say, entrance angle? Lifted my hips slightly, in order to get back inside as deeply as we were before and... oh my.

Bones threw her head back and gave out a loud sound, mixture of moan and mewl, with a few "yesses", "ohgods" and "Seeleys" thrown in for good measure. Her hips bucked up once or twice and then she wrapped her legs around mine, squeezing tight. Her nails raked down my back leaving a series of marks that days later still stung. Her head bounced back and she bit down on my shoulder. Hard. Bruise's still there, by the way.

And I won't go into just how tight her pussy was clamping around my cock.

I don't know if it was the applied pressure, the exquisite friction, months of wanting exactly this and finally getting it, or Bones's encouraging moans and demands of my "coming with her NOW", but all it took was a couple of thrusts before I reached heaven. While it lasted, it seemed to last forever, but once I calmed down it didn't seem to have lasted enough.

As soon as I regained a breathing rate that could be considered normal, I tried moving away, but Bones held me in place with both arms and legs.

"Don't go. Stay in me for as long as you can. Please."

Who am I to deny her anything?

I could still feel her contracting around me. So I began moving very sowly in and out. A tranquil, relaxed rhythm. Perhaps we were too tired for indulging in a passionate display once more, but there is always enough stamina for tenderness.

And tender it was. All three times that followed.

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**A/N: ** Epilogue, anyone?


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: ** Thanks for all the wonderful feedback you've given this store and all the positive vibes you've sent our family's way. I know I took forever, but real life (aka dr's appointments) and writing fanfic sometimes don't mix well.

**A/N2: ** And here is, by popular demand, the epilogue of our undercover (and under the bed covers) mission. Please say thanks to Ms. Montenegro on the way out for lending us the Angelator to take B&B for a spin around town (or a tantric yoga institute).

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Fuck.

If my muscles were killing me yesterday evening, this morning there's definitively murder and mayhem in their agenda. I'm not a young pup anymore, dammit, and contrary to popular belief, I usually draw the line at two times performance per night.

Bones got me going FOUR times in less than 6 hours. Count them. F O U R. A fucking (pun intended) record by my standards… by anyone's standards, really. Four absofuckinglutely wonderful sessions of lovemaking. Not that I hadn't picture her as a skilled lover, mind you, but four times?

W o w

And now comes the dreaded morning-after-doing-the-deed-for-the-first-time moment. Talk about awkward. More often than not I've opted for the discreet retreat in the middle of the night. Tacky, yes, but effective. No embarrassing moves trying to get dressed as quickly and casually as possible. No uncomfortable silences heavy with all the things you want to say but can't, and all the things you have to say, but won't. Not having to accept the forced invitation for breakfast. And I don't want to remember to the one time in my life I decided to take the girl to MY place. Lunch time came and went and she was still there, and my subtle hints didn't seem to reach her at all. For as long as I live I don't want to have to say that "I want you out of here now" ever again.

So I carefully half open my eyes to check out what the landscape was. And my breath caught in my chest. Bones was up and about as naked as the day she was born. And feeling totally comfortable too, I might add. I'm sure that, if asked, she'd have a slew of anthropological theories regarding the social imposition of clothes and how natural nakedness was, but I wasn't going to waste my time delving into that knowledge.

Mr. Jones, by the way, wasn't wasting any time either. Darn, the things that woman do to me!

Bones must have sensed/heard/assumed/guessed/whatever that I was up (those puns just keep coming, huh?) and turned to look at me, smiling. Wham. Full force hit straight into my heart and my loins. I'm not sure I'm going to survive this. Neither my ranger nor my FBI training ever prepared me for falling in love with a sex goddess like Temperance Brennan.

She comes closer to the bed and gives me a once over. Her smile acquires a wicked aura and I'm sure I'm gonna die a happy man pretty soon. Amazingly, I don't really give a damn.

And as far as I can tell, neither does Mr. Jones.

"Good"…. kiss on my forehead…. "morning"… kiss on the tip of my nose …. "lover"… soft kiss on my lips… "boy"…. kiss on the hollow of my throat… "Are you" … lick on my left nipple… "up" …. kiss on my right nipple… "for a little"…. lick on my belly button… "loving?"… kiss on the tip of my cock.

And before I even got a chance to open my mouth, she opened hers.

All rational thought left the building once Bones started blowing me. My eloquence was reduced to incomprehensible grunts and my hands were holding onto the pillow for dear life, and I was holding back with all the self-restraint I could muster. God help me, all I wanted there and then was to grab her head and pump into her mouth like there was no tomorrow. But somehow, I managed to keep my hands on the pillow and my hips on the mattress and my head… got no idea where my head was back then.

In what seemed like seconds (and I'm hard at prayer that the operative word here is "seemed") Bones had me on the edge. My shaking hands let go of their safety hold and reached for her shoulders in warning. But she grasped my wrists and held my arms on my sides and continued sucking and licking and… and…

There's no more erotic sight than that of the woman you love watching you watching her as you come in her mouth.

I threw my head back and screamed her name. I wanted to devour her and I was hoping Mr. Jones would recover ASAP in order to help me. I felt like I would surely die if I didn't get inside her and branded her mine once again. I wanted to taste her tasting of me. I wanted.. I needed her so badly it hurt.

But then my eye caught the camera in the corner and reality came crashing down.

xxx XXX xxx

It took a couple of weeks, but we managed to close the case.

The clinic was indeed a cover-up for not one, but three different crimes. Dez's brother was doing the smuggling of whatever artifact he could get his hands on, and that included some life sized statuettes. Dez's sister, who was in charge of the spa, came up with the bright idea of getting former clients to take the place of the stolen statuettes and had a regular mummy assembly line stashed in the basement of the spa. The victims were carefully selected after screening their bank accounts and tortured in order to obtain the codes. As for Dez, he had a very nice amateur porn movie business going on. Talk about a family of criminals.

Cullen called me into his office a couple of days afterwards for a briefing. Everything was going fine until he mentioned that the video-lab guys were running through all the tapes found in the clinic trying to look for further incriminating evidence. I began sweating under my collar. I had totally forgotten about the tapes.

I could tell Cullen was enjoying watching me squirm in my seat. Without warning he threw a tape marked "Brethen" at me. I caught it mid-air and stared at it, not quite ready to face him yet.

"I managed to get that one before it was reviewed. I'm sure you'll agree that the information in that tape has no relationship whatsoever with the Dez family trial and therefore, it holds no interest whatsoever for the FBI"

I tried to nod nonchalantly. Maybe, just maybe, I could walk out of there with my dignity intact and my ass in one piece. My hopes rose when Cullen dismissed me without further mention of the tape. I was almost at the door when he called my name, and I turned around to meet his gaze.

"Four times, Booth. I'm impressed"

Unfortunately, earth doesn't up and swallow us on demand, no matter how fervently we ask for it. So I merely crawled out of there as fast as I could.

So… bad guys were behind bars, justice had prevailed, and all tantric sex lovers could sleep peacefully knowing they weren't going to end their days decorating a doctor's office. Back at the Jeffersonian, the squints were gladly poring over real bones and talking in what I can only assume is English. Angela has this "I-KNOW-something-happened" look plastered on her face 24/7 and wastes no opportunity drilling both Bones and me for information.

So far, we've managed to resist. We're still at that stage where we feel too selfish to share what's ours. What goes on behind closed doors in both our places (yes, she's been to MY place several times… I've even allowed her to cook breakfast once or twice) is no one's business but ours so far. Maybe one day we'll tell, but not now.

Besides, the look on Ange's face when she finally catches us going at it in Bones' bathroom is sure to be priceless.

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**A/N: **So, this is finally it. Please close the door on your way out. Feel free to drop by and revisit any time you like. Oh.. and I wouldn't mind if you left a note saying how much you enjoyed the ride!


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